


A Gentle Touch

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock Gift Exchange, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John, Top John Watson, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course when Sherlock finds John's turn on spot he can't leave well enough alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentle Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Johnlock Challenges Valentines Gift Exchange on tumblr. This gift is for heygobrittany, whose prompt was: "Sherlock finds John’s turn on spot"

John looked out the window while Sherlock finished his tour of the room, spouting off deductions faster than Lestrade could write them down. Suddenly, Sherlock was behind him, hands on his skin where his jacket and shirt had ridden up. He shifted John a few feet to the left, cold hands on his waist. John shivered and not just from the cold. He heard Sherlock behind him, humming as if he’d found something interesting.

“The assailant go through the window?” asked Lestrade, oblivious.

“Perhaps,” he said aloud, leaning down over John. “You like that,” he purred quietly in John’s ear, caressing his skin just above his hip bone.

John flushed despite himself. “Case, Sherlock.”

Sherlock straightened and turned dramatically, rattling off conclusions to Lestrade as he took John’s elbow and steered him to the door. John barely managed to get out an apology before they were out on the street and into a cab that had apparently been summoned via Sherlock’s dark magic.

“One of these days you need to teach me how you always find a cab,” muttered John.

They kept hands to themselves on the ride back. The first time Sherlock had tried to make moves on him in a cab, they’d nearly had to walk halfway across the city and paid the cabbie three times the fare to convince him to take them. After that, John was resolute that Sherlock not touch him or himself until they were back in the flat.

They swept up the stairs. Sherlock had his scarf and coat off while John was still struggling with his jacket zip. His lover went to his knees, pushing up his coat and shirt and leaning down to plant a kiss on his skin. John shivered and finally got the zip down, shrugging out of his coat, but getting caught with it on his arms as his head went back and he moaned. Sherlock was laving the area, alternating his tongue with soft nips that should have been ticklish, but instead were just making his jeans increasingly uncomfortable.

“Sherlock,” he panted.

“Mmm?” the man hummed against his sensitive skin, making John groan and nearly lose his balance.

“Christ,” muttered John, trying to get a hand on Sherlock’s head. “Bedroom.”

“What’s wrong with here?” Sherlock reached up and freed John from the confines of the jacket, dropping it on the floor. Against his better judgment, John pulled his shirt over his head, leaving himself exposed to Sherlock’s attentions.

Sherlock grabbed his hips and propelled him backwards towards the couch. John nearly tripped over the coffee table before landing, sprawling out. Pinning him down, Sherlock went back to that spot as John moaned and tried to arch up against him, one hand trying to push at Sherlock’s head, the other one gripping the cushions for dear life.

Finally, Sherlock raised his head, licking his lips. John launched himself at Sherlock, knocking him onto the floor as he kissed him, pinning his wrists to the rug as he worried his lower lip in his teeth. “Fuck,” growled John, shifting to hold the wrists with his right while he got open Sherlock’s shirt open with his left. He kissed down Sherlock’s jaw, scraping his teeth along the long line of his neck before following the trail with his tongue.

“You seem to be responding to the stimulus with more aggression than usual,” said Sherlock as if John were another interesting specimen on his table.

“I’ll show you aggression,” muttered John, letting go of Sherlock’s wrists and going for his belt.

Sherlock gave a tiny smile of satisfaction, the one that John knew was only for him. “Where did you hide the nearest bottle of lube?”

“There is a bottle under the couch,” said Sherlock, wiggling out of his trousers and pants when John turned to find it. By the time he faced his lover again, Sherlock was pulling two fingers out of his mouth and reaching down to touch his entrance.

Breath catching, John watched as Sherlock opened his legs wider, stroking across the tight muscle. He got out of his own pants and trousers as he watched, leaning down to kiss the inside of Sherlock’s knee. “Push a finger inside.”

Smirking, Sherlock slowly pushed a long pale finger past the muscle. John moaned watching, leaning in to bite Sherlock’s thigh. “You are so hot,” he muttered.

“Feels best when it is you,” said Sherlock, watching him. “Perhaps it is sentiment.”

“Or maybe I just know your body better than you.” John coated his fingers and shifted forward, pressing a finger in next to Sherlock’s.

Sherlock moaned at the sensation, his own finger longer and more slender, John’s thicker and shorter. As he thrust his own finger slowly, John moved to match, out when the finger went in, deeper when it thrust back out. A bit more lube and Sherlock added a second finger. Groaning, Sherlock withdrew his own.

“Look how nice you open for me,” whispered John. Sherlock reached down and squeezed his waist, making him moan again. He crooked his fingers and Sherlock gave a small cry, precum leaking from his cock. Leaning down, John lapped it up with tiny kitten licks, sending shivers of pleasure down Sherlock’s body.

“Please, John, inside,” he moaned.

“You want me inside you?” John added a third finger, stretching him just that much wider.

“John,” Sherlock groaned again, rocking against his fingers, bearing down against him.

Smiling, John carefully pulled out and wiped his hand on the nearest shirt. He loomed over Sherlock, lining up against him. “I’m going to fuck you until you beg to come,” he promised.

“Is that so, John Watson?” asked Sherlock, with a glint in his eyes.

He pushed forward, making Sherlock cry out. He pushed the man’s knees to his chest; almost doubling him over as he moved harder and deeper, knowing how much Sherlock could take. A slight shift of his angle and….Sherlock’s shivered head to toes as John hit his prostate.

Planting his hands on either side, John drove relentlessly into him. Sherlock nearly mewled at the pleasure, helpless underneath the onslaught. Nipping at an ankle, John grabbed Sherlock’s cock and squeezed, just enough to stop his orgasm.

“Not fair,” growled Sherlock, eyes flying open as he tried to push John back.

“You know what you need to do,” grinned John.

Sherlock’s hand was suddenly on his side, feather light strokes against his waist. John yelped and pulled back, dropping Sherlock’s feet back to the floor. “Oh, you bugger.”

His lover gave a smile. John grabbed his hand and pulled him to a seat before pulling him all the way over and bending him over the couch, twisting one arm behind his back. “Like to see you try that from here,” he said, pushing inside all over again, knowing how much Sherlock liked a little pain in his pleasure.

He shifted his angle to hit his prostate again, holding his wrist with his right and reaching down to stave off his orgasm with his left. Sherlock tossed his head, crying out against the cushions. He could feel how close the man was, but he’d made a promise and was determined to keep it, even as his own desire built.

“Please, John,” Sherlock was barely coherent. “I...need…”

John gave his cock two quick strokes. “Go on, come for me.”

Sherlock’s moan was barely muffled by the cushions, whole body shaking with the force of it as he stained the front of the couch and the rug. John let go of his arm, grabbed Sherlock’s hips and fucked him relentlessly, barely aware the couch was knocking against the wall as he hurtled toward his own completion.

With a groan he came hard, bruising Sherlock’s hips as he squeezed, leaning forward to nip at his back as he panted against sweat-slicked skin, heart pounding against his lover’s spine. “Oh my God,” he muttered, when he could finally think again.

“Similar sentiments occurred to me as well,” grumbled Sherlock, still muffled by the couch.

John chuckled softly and kissed just below his shoulder. He carefully pulled out. Sherlock slumped dramatically against the couch. Rolling his eyes, John carefully got up and went for a wet rag. He slung one at Sherlock from across the room, smacking him on the back of his neck. “Wipe up the couch.”

Still grumbling, Sherlock obeyed while John wiped himself off, then went to clean up the detective. He leaned in and kissed him, taking the other dirty cloth. “Thank you. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Sherlock got up and wrapped his arms around John’s waist, lightly skimming his fingers across his waist. “You should perhaps invest in a longer coat. Your jacket might ride up again.”

John smacked his hand away. “And you need to learn to control yourself,” he said affectionately, leaning up to kiss him. “Come on.”

He tossed the rags at the direction of the sink as they walked back to the bedroom, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
